


Bossy

by placentalmammal



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Kink Negotiation, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon and Cait find a strap-on harness on a scavenging run; after some persuasion, she agrees to use it on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bossy

The outer fringe of downtown Boston was largely residential: block after block of ruined houses with sagging floors and ceilings, shingles and siding coated with a thick layer of salt and scum. The cellars were full of Mirelurks, the upper floors were full of scavenge gangs. After two hundred years, the dilapidated homes had been thoroughly picked over, but Sturges insisted that there was always _something_ useful to be found in the ruins. And after the latest supermutant raid, Hangman’s Alley was in dire need of useful.

Sturges had presented Cait and Deacon two options: haul mutie corpses with the rest of the settlers, or head out into the ruins and look for supplies to replace everything they’d lost. Cait volunteered to scavenge, and after a few moment of deliberation, Deacon offered to accompany her. Sturges presented them with a list as long as his arm, and they set off at noon, their hats and hoods pulled low to protect their fair skin from sunburn.

In the first house, she grabbed his ass while they navigated a narrow hallway. In the second, he came up behind her and groped her, filling his hands with her tits while she laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. They were respectable in the third house, but in the fourth, she got him up against the wall and ground up against him until she felt him stiffen against her, and then she left him there, turned on and unfulfilled. He sulked for a quarter of an hour, but then the game was on again.

An enjoyable way to spend an afternoon, if unproductive. The first hour of searching yielded only four of the items on their list; the second, only one. As the day wore on, their discipline waned. They wandered through the houses aimlessly and offered arch commentary on the decor, opening cabinets and drawers at random. They found nothing on Sturges’ list, but Cait turned up an unopened tin of shoe polish for herself and a new hat for Deacon’s collection.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Cait opened a dresser drawer in a run-down two bedroom house a few blocks north of Hangman’s alley. The kitchen had yielded a few stray pieces of silver, the bathroom nothing but rust and razorblades. The drawer contained little of interest: metal rings too small to be bracelets, a few dried-out bottle of lube, and a bizarre amalgamation of leather straps.

“What do you suppose this is?” she said, holding it up for Deacon’s inspection.

The thing--whatever it was--startled a laugh from him. “It’s a harness.”

“For what? It looks more like a pair of underpants than anythin’ else.”

“For dildos, Cait. You put a dildo through the hole and put it on. Instant dick.”

She frowned for a moment, then laughed. “Were people really into that back then?”

“Hey, some people still are,” he said, cheerily. “Judge not lest ye be judged, Caitlin.”

“Call me that again, and I rip your dick off.”

“Kinky. Buy me dinner, first?”

She snorted. “The sun’s settin’ and we got three more blocks to cover,” she said. “Come on, Deacon, we’re wastin’ our time here.” She tossed the harness back into the drawer and slammed it shut. She left the bedroom and crossed back into the kitchen, pausing in the exterior doorway. “Hey Deacon,” she called, her voice echoing in the empty room. “You comin’?”

He appeared in the hallway. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Just checking, looking to see if there’s anything you might have missed.”

“Quit stallin’,” she said. “I want to get back to civilization before the all the ghouls and muties wake up.” She slung her pack over her shoulder and set out into the growing dark with Deacon at her heels.

\----

Another hour combing through the ruined homes and they found only half the items on Sturges’ list. The electrical and mechanical components remained elusive, but they found plenty of scrap to break down for raw materials. Deacon marked the lintels of a few likely houses with chalk, and they began the long walk back to Hangman's Alley. He favored looping, indirect routes to to avoid mutant camps and throw off tails. The location of the Alley wasn't exactly a secret, but Deacon's paranoia forced them down strange trails.

The dinner dishes had been washed, dried, and put away by the time they returned. Cait punched Deacon in the shoulder and sat down by the fire with a cold plate of leftover stew. Deacon joined her, and they ate in companionable silence, forks scraping against their plates. MacCready hovered and tried to engage Cait in a pissing match over their kill counts; she ignored him and focused on her supper.

Fifteen minutes later, she dumped her dirty dishes in the basin and made her way to the lofted bunkhouse. It was early enough in the evening that the long, dark room was deserted. Grateful for the rare moment of privacy, she changed out of her leathers and into regular clothing: wool socks and a thin tee, corduroy trousers worn thin and supple as flannel after years of wear. She dropped down onto her bed and pulled a book from her trunk: a dog-eared copy of the _Riverside Shakespeare_ , a joint birthday gift from Deacon and Strong, its pages thin and translucent as onion skin.

She labored over the dense text, trying to make sense of the dense verse and crowded footnotes. The plays made more sense when read aloud, but she wasn't confident enough in her reading skills to attempt it when anyone might overhear.

A knock on the door disturbed her reverie, she glanced up to see Deacon standing in the doorway, one hand behind his back. "Hey," he said, "you busy?"

She marked her place and set the book aside. "Just readin'," she said. "Why?"

"Well," he said, a nervous edge in his usually-smooth voice. "I had a favor to ask of you, actually." He crossed to the edge of her bed and stood stiffly by her trunk. Ordinarily, he'd sit down without waiting for an invitation and make a right mess of her blankets and pillows.

"Deacon," she said sternly. "What do you want?"

"Okay, so: remember the thing we found, in that house? And you were all 'well, who'd be into _that_ ' and I was like 'well, I don't know, some people might be?'" He pitched his voice higher to imitate her, lower to mimic himself. Cait raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to continue. "Well, by 'someone,' I mean 'me.' And uh, I was hoping you would indulge me, actually?" He pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealed the scavenged harness. The buckles and rivets glinted in the glow of the electric lights. Cait stared at it, momentarily lost for words.

She found her voice after a pregnant pause. "You askin' me to fuck you, Deacon?"

He hesitated. "Yes. Yeah, that is, uh, _exactly_ what I was asking."

"I got a couple dildos in my trunk, but nothin' to lube it up with," she said dubiously. "Seems risky."

"I'm way ahead of you," he said, producing a small bottle from his back pocket. "Finest lubrication in the Wasteland. Tom brews it and sells it for fifty caps an ounce, but lucky me: I get a discount owing to our long-standing friendship."

"You steal it, is what you mean."

"Tay-to, tah-to," he said. "Come on, Cait. Fuck me in the ass. You know you want to." At her reluctance, he said, "Please? We'll call it a favor to an old friend."

A moment of consideration, and she relented. "Alright, then," she said, and Deacon pumped his fist like he'd just scored a headshot from three hundred yards. Cait rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to walk me through it," she said. "I never done this before."

"Don't worry," he said, crossing to the door. He slid the deadbolt into place, then turned and dropped onto Cait's bed. The springs squeaked and groaned in protest. Deacon ignored them and peeled his shirt off, eyes shining behind his sunglasses. "I'm a connoisseur of ass, I got this thing down to a _science_. Take your pants off, that's step one."

He demonstrated, and Cait noted that he was already halfway hard. Grinning, she shucked her trousers, took the dildo he handed her, and fit it into the harness. "How does this thing go on?" she asked, and Deacon lunged forward, fumblingly eager to help her.

"Like this." He tugged the harness into position and cinched it tight, then sat back to admire his handiwork. "God," he said, swallowing. "God _damn_."

Cait took the lube and slicked it over the dildo. Deacon laid back and watched the motion of her hands, pupils swallowing up the grey of his eyes. He wet his lips and settled back on the mattress, gripping the sheets with clenched fists.

She settled herself between his spread legs, reached down to trace a bullet scar on his belly. "So,” she said, keeping her voice low, mindful of the open windows. “Do I just...stick it in you or what?"

Deacon squirmed under her hands, sunken chest rising and falling rapidly. "You gotta loosen me up, first," he panted. He was blushing, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, erect cock bobbing between his legs. "Start with one finger and a lot of lube. Work your way up."

"So: fingerfuck your arse 'til you're loose enough for my cock?"

He whimpered, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Yeah," he said weakly. "That's the idea."

"God, you're a dirty boy," she said. She patted his hip and reached for the lube again. "Barely touched you yet and you're fit to burst." She squeezed a dollop of lube onto her fingertips, spread it around. "That enough?"

"A little more," he said. "Rule of thumb. Always use more than you think you're-- _oh god_." His voice broke off in a whimper as she pushed her forefinger into his ass, forcing her way past that initial resistance with a shove.

"What?" she said. "Too fast?"

"Yes," he said, his voice creaky as a door hinge. "Give a man a little _warning_ at least."

"Sorry," she said. "Told you I’d never done this." She allowed him a moment to adjust, then began curling and uncurling the finger inside him, shivering at the clench and shudder of his inner muscles. "You're so tight," she said. "I don't know if this thing's going to fit in your arse."

Deacon's breath caught in his chest. "Sweet Christ, you're not even _trying_ ," he said, tilting his hips down. "Keep talking like that, I'm going to blow my load before I can relax enough for your cock." Another deep breath. "Go ahead and try a second finger."

Cait complied, pushing a second finger into him with little resistance. She hesitated for a moment, then began fucking him gently, working her fingers deeper into his ass with each shallow thrust. Whimpering, he screwed his eyes shut, his hands fisting in the sheets. Spread-eagle on the bed, Deacon made a pretty picture: flushed and trembling, mouth moving wordlessly while she worked him open. He was incredibly _responsive_ , writhing and shivering at the slightest touch.

Marveling at his sensitivity, Cait pressed inwards and upwards until she found a firm, spongy mass. Deacon yelped, hips lifting up off the mattress, cock and balls twitching. A moment of humming tension and he went slack, pre-come welling up from his slit.

Cait drew her hand back, slick fingers sliding out of his asshole. "You like this," she said, wonderingly "You really, _really_ like this."

"If I didn't want you to fuck my ass, I wouldn't have asked you to fuck my ass," he groaned. "Just don't fucking _stop_ \--"

Middle finger raised, Cait pushed into him again, giving him a third finger. Deacon shivered, clenching around her slicked-up digits. Another squirt of lube, and she began to stretch him wider, testing the upper limits of his elasticity. Face shining, Deacon kept up a steady chorus of whines and moans, his cock twitching and pulsing against his belly while his balls lifted inside his sack. Cait watched, wide-eyed and fascinated by their alien motion.

"Quit staring" he said hoarsely. "You're making me self-conscious."

"Can't help it, can I?" she said. "Way you're cryin' and carryin' on, it'd be damn hard to look anywhere else."

" _God_." He slung an arm over his head, shielding his face from view. "You're killing me, Cait."

"You like it." He was warm and slick around her fingers, letting her slide in deeper on each pass. Lube dripped down his ass crack and along her palm, warm and slick and smelling strongly of him. "Do you want another finger?"

"No," he mumbled. "I'm ready. But go slow, alright? I don't want to have to call Curie in here to shove my colon back in through--"

"Deacon," she said sharply. "Shut the fuck up, or I'm leavin' you here to fuck your own damn ass."

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Yes ma'am."

"And none of that, either. Call me 'Cait,' dammit."

"Bossy, bossy," he complained, no heat in it. "Hang on, let me get into position before you start." He rolled onto his belly and lifted his ass into the air, face pressed down into the mattress. "Go ahead," he said, his voice muffled against the sheets. "Fuck me."

Cait got into position behind him, ran a finger along his spine, counting his protruding vertebrae. His back and shoulders were pale and unmuscled, dotted with freckles and moles. She traced constellations on his back, and he shivered, gooseflesh breaking out at her calloused touch.

"What's this about?" she said gently.

"Don't like it when people look at me," he mumbled. A rare truth, plucked out of him with gentle fingers. Stripped of clothes and pretense, there was no point in lying. "Come on," he said. "You got me face down, ass up. Just fuck me, _please_. Spare me the psychoanalysis."

"Now look who’s the bossy one?" she teased. Cait slapped his ass and he grunted, pushing back against her hips. The head of the dildo bumped his hip and he shivered, burying his face in the sheets.

" _Fuck me_ ," he said grouchily.

Cait laughed. "Nobody likes a mouthy bottom, Deacon." She reached for the discarded bottle and slicked more lube over the head of the dildo. One hand on his hip for balance, she used the other to guide the cock to his entrance. "Ready?"

"I've _been_ ready," he complained, and she pushed into him. There was a bit of initial resistance while she worked the fat head of the cock into the tight ring of muscle. Deacon went very still underneath her, sucking in a great breath just as she pushed into him. "Oh," he said, his voice small. " _Oh God_."

"Talk to me," she said. "You alright?"

"Just fine," he said, high and strangled. He pushed his hips back, taking another inch without resistance. Breathing hard, he stopped, thighs trembling. "Need a minute."

"Take as long as you need, handsome," she said, squeezing his hip gently. "I've got you right where I want you."

"You're the fucking _best_ at talking dirty, unfair." Deacon's hips twitched backwards, and he took another inch, sweating and swearing the whole time. "Start thrusting," he ordered. "Slowly."

"Say please."

Deacon swore. "You going to make me beg, Cait?"

"I'd like you to," she said. "Unless you don't--"

"Please fuck me," he said raggedly, his voice worn thin as his disguises. "I need your cock, Cait. Fuck me, _please, please, please--_ "

Palms sweaty, Cait began to pump her hips, thrusting shallowly. Deacon tensed, shivering, and relaxed, pushing back against her until her hips bumped his. Cait swallowed, staring down at the cock embedded in his ass, and she shivered. "You look good like this," she said, incrementally increasing her speed. "Spread out on my cock, begging for it--"

"Cait." His voice was raw, edged with desperation. "Oh my god, _Cait_ \--" he breathed in, out, and said her name again and again, begging and cursing her in equal measure. "Cait, Cait, Cait, Cait, Cait."

She gripped his hips tighter, leaning forward to push deeper into him, pressing him down into the mattress. Deacon thrust back against her, the dildo sliding deeper into his ass with each thrust. Skin slapping against skin, grunting with exertion, Cait pounded into Deacon, holding him steady as he danced along the knife's edge of orgasm.

Trembling and shivering underneath her, whimpering and quaking, Deacon came with a strangled cry. Cait glanced at the open windows, but Deacon drew her eyes like magnets: he went still underneath her hands, tensing and relaxing as his cock twitched against his belly, smearing dripping come onto the sheets and smearing it across his pale skin. Breathing hard, Cait pulled out and sat down heavily behind him, unsteady in her arousal.

"Hey," she said, patting his thigh. "You alright down there?"

"Fine," he said. "I'm going to stay like this a minute. Just until the room stops spinning."

"Did I fuck you good?" she said, running her hand soothingly across his flesh. "Rock your world?"

"Yeah." He rolled onto his back, looked up at her blearily. "I think I had a vision of the end times when I came. You're like a...like a sex valkyrie or something. Holy shit."

"The end times came and went, Deacon." She patted him again. "And I'm going to assume that was a compliment to save myself the trouble of kicking your skinny arse."

"You're a merciful goddess," he mumbled. "That’s super hot." Deacon sat up and stretched. He rolled his shoulders and his back popped audibly; Cait cringed. “God,” he said. “I ache something fierce. Gonna be walking funny tomorrow, that’s for sure.”

“You looking for an apology?”

“Nah,” he said, grinning lazily. “We’re good.” He dropped his gaze to her lap, the leather harness and the silicone cock, still shining with lube. “But I don’t think we’re even. Want me to eat you out, even the scales a little bit?”

Cait sat back on her haunches. “It’s sex not… not a business deal. It don’t have to be tit-for-tat.”

“Yeah, but I _want_ to. Don’t think about it like an exchange, more like...a favor. Between friends.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Come on, Deacon,” she teased. “Don’t tell me _that’s_ your best line.”

“Well, it’s multi-purpose,” he said. “It’s an all-occasions come-on. Suited for weddings, funerals, corporate events. You should try it sometime, it’s really pretty amazing.”

“Hey smartass,” she said. “Do me a favor and lick me. How’s that?”

He chuckled and lowered himself onto his elbows between her spread legs. “I am helpless, as always, to resist you. Help me get this thing off you.” He undid one of the claps and tugged at the other catches. “Lift your hips.”

A bit of fumbling, and he pulled the harness off her, dropping it onto the floor with a resounding _clunk_. He ran his hands up her thighs, breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. She was already wet--her lips were flush with arousal, her pubic hair was slick with her juices--but his touch enflamed her. Biting her lip, Cait spread herself for him, parting her lips with her middle- and forefingers. Deacon responded eagerly, burying his face in her damp curls and licking along her seam, his hazy grey eyes locked on hers.

Deacon ate her pussy with a skill that belied years of practice. Swearing and clutching his head, Cait ground down against his mouth, her toes curling as his tongue crashed over her clitoris. She bucked against his lips, smearing her arousal over his chin and jaw. He was so pale that he glowed in the darkness, freckles and moles dark stars on his white skin. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she slumped back against the headboard and fixed the image into her mind.

“God you’re _good_ ,” she said, screwing her eyes shut. “Gonna be thinking about this, next time I’m all alone in my bed. You got a pretty ass and a sweet tongue, I’m gonna _live_ off these memories--” Her words ended in a gasp as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, tongue pulsing hot and sweet against her sensitive bud. “Fuck, Deacon--”

He pulled away, laughing, his mouth slick with her juices. “My name sounds so good when you say it like that,” he said. “Bet I can make you scream it when you come.”

“Not on your life,” she said fiercely. “I ain’t shouting your name ‘less I see you get run through by a deathclaw.”

He chuckled. “Nah, you’re going to be singing it after I get my mouth back on you,” he said, squeezing her thighs. “I’m the best at sex _and_ the best at puns. Just ask--”

With an impatient noise, she pushed his face back down into her cunt, grinding up against his mouth until he relented and began licking her again. She swallowed a whimper and bit at her bottom lip to keep herself quiet as he changed tactics: slow, broad licks up and down her slit. Deacon paid no special attention to her clit, and the lack of direct stimulation was maddening. Groaning in frustration, her hands clenched in the sheets, Cait pushed forward against his mouth, her red hair falling forward into her eyes. “Bastard,” she said, low and hoarse. “Tryin’ to get me so worked up I lose control, is that your game?”

His lips curled upwards and he redoubled his efforts, lathing his tongue over her wet cunt while she huffed out a breathless laugh.

“I ain’t gonna,” she said. “Do your worst, handsome. Gonna come so quiet you won’t realize ‘til you’re drowning in--oh _fuck!_ ”

He’d switched tracks abruptly, narrowing his focus to her clit. Grey eyes shining, he flicked his tongue over her button until she was quaking in the sheets, moans pouring from her open lips. “Don’t stop,” she snarled, beating her fists against the mattress. “Don’t you _dare_ stop--”

Orgasm hit her, and she pressed her lips together, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She flexed and tensed underneath his hands, shivering and going still like a bow being drawn back. Her release was neat and sudden, legs shaking as she lurched forward, her mouth pressed into a furious line as she jerked forward, shoulders curling.

Breathing heavily, she leaned back, satisfied. “I win,” she said hoarsely. “Kept your name out of my mouth, didn’t I?”

He sat up, grimacing. “But you were _thinking_ it, though. The moral victory is mine.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” she said, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I won, Deacon.”

“And _there_ it is,” he grumbled. “Thirty seconds earlier, and I could have had bragging rights, but no.” He shook his head, laughter in his eyes but not on his lips. “So selfish, Cait.”

“So selfish I’m kicking your ass out of my bed,” she said, nudging him with her foot. “Go on, get. We’re heading out real early tomorrow, so I’m told.”

He crawled to the edge of the bed, stooped to retrieve his discarded clothing. “I take back every nice thing I ever said. You’re a mean person, Cait.”

Smirking, she sprawled out, stretching to occupy the space he had vacated. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

“Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “Not on your life.”


End file.
